Tales from the Transit Line
Fashion File from the Morning Commute:
It may or may not have been a good night for this particular morning commuter, who either partied his shirt off or lost it, when he pried himself from a ‘trap’ upon waking.
Still, he manages to pull off the Slash-look, easily, even in spite of his state of consciousness.
The jungle apparently brought him to his kn-n-n-n-nees.
#Saveahorseridethetrain
Tales from the Transit Line
Fashion Files from the Evening Commute:
With TransLink’s record of delays this past year, it only makes sense to have a back-up plan.
And, if it looks better than a Car2Go when you wear it, why not.
Tales from the Transit Line
Fashion File from the Evening Commute:
Destination – not unknown?
Although the Millennium Line doesn’t go to the border, this commuter appears to be on his way to an American Independence Day celebration.
Fireworks are sure to go off if this gentleman and his festive get-up get across the line.
And with that, we wish a happy Fourth of July to our fellow commuters south of the 49th parallel!
Tales from the Transit Line
Report from the Morning Commute:
Ten minutes into their first date, they both should have known it wasn’t going to work.
“He said to me: ‘Relax, princess,'” reported the scorned girl. “So I gave him a backhand to the face,” she added, demonstrating awkwardly for her two confidants.
Still, she made plans to see him again, coordinating the rendezvous via text, until she discovered she was texting with her potential boyfriend’s brother and not the bachelor himself.
“How would I know who I am talking to? I can’t see him,” she asked, rhetorically.
“What a weirdo,” one friend noted, supportively.
But the determined bride-to-maybe-someday-be eventually got the prankster’s actual number, and attempted to get to know him better.
While “bickering playfully,” however, he announced he didn’t like her personality and declared that they wouldn’t see each other again.
She responded with tears and he, again, proclaimed that she should “relax.”
Tales from the Transit Line
Deep Thoughts from the Morning Commute:
Taxi drivers are like hair dressers.
You hire them to do a very specific job, but then they start asking you how you want them to do that job, and you’re all: ‘I don’t know man, you’re the expert, figure it out.’
Postscript: My driver’s bad breath mixed with his – yes his – perfume – yes perfume – is making me car sick.
#grouchy
Tales from the Transit Line
Report from the Evening Commute:
A large cat was seen taking public transit in Vancouver today, but unlike its similarly-sized cousins – lions and tigers, the animal appeared to be domesticated.
The nearly six-feet-tall feline, who also sported a mustache and strawberry-red hair on his head, was reading the newspaper and walking upright.
Tales from the Transit Line
Fashion File from the Evening Commute:
If you’re carrying a camouflage Coach man bag, but your dress shirt’s untucked, your loafers are blue with cheetah accents, and your blasting David Bowie’s Modern Love on your iPod, you get a pass for the bag.
Tales from the Transit Line
Report from the Evening Commute:
Although it has had annual revenues hover the billion dollar mark and it operates approximately 201 stores around the world – not everyone knows about Lululemon Athletica.
A young commuter, on his way through downtown Vancouver, the West Coast city where the yoga-inspired athletic apparel company is based, today, admitted that he was one of them.
“I don’t know what ‘lululemon’ means,” he said.
When offered an explanation, he added, unconvinced, “I haven’t seen or heard of it. It could mean a lot of things.”
Tales from the Transit Line
Blessing from the Morning Commute:
On a cold, rainy day, may you always get a seat next to the heater, while you ride the bus. And may it not get turned off halfway through your commute.
Namaste.
Tales from the Transit Line
Report from the Evening Commute:
A couple of young ladies taking transit on a Friday afternoon, aren’t expecting a friend to make the junior girls’ national roller derby team.
One of them even admitted her own likely inability to make the team, which does not exist, even though she hadn’t been invited to try out.
“I have a tendency of vastly underestimating my skills,” she told the girl with ‘nice’ eyeshadow.
“Some people do that,” noted the friend.
“No, it’s because I’m a genius,” explained the smart straphanger, knowingly.
Tales from the Transit Line 